Internal Affairs
by IronAngel240
Summary: "Of all the wonders that I have yet heard, It seems to me most strange that men fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come." William Shakespeare.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi Everyone,**

 **I had to blow some dust off of this story, but here is finally the newest installment of the Guardian series. I must say I've lost some confidence in the story lately, hence the reason that I haven't update in a while. I hope there are still people who will enjoy this. Anyway, please feel free to review or to PM me.**

 **Xxx**

 **IronAngel240**

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Griffin Bauer stumbled tiredly into her empty townhouse as she wiped her hand over her burning eyes. She kicked the door closed and threw her keys onto the kitchen counter.

The last shift had been brutal. Not only did she pull a multiple homicide (the result of a gang related shoot out), but Sara Sidle still refused to talk to her. It had been three weeks since Sara had found out who Griffin was, but the scene still played out in Griffin's mind as if it had happened mere seconds ago…

" _What the_ hell _are you?" Sara asked her eyes wide with fear._

 _Griffin was quiet for a moment before she answered, "I'm an Angel."_

Griffin shuddered at the memory of the conversation that followed. She had tried to explain to Sara the sordid details of the Supernatural Realm… and it had ended with Sara storming out of Griffin's house and three weeks of agonizing and awkward silence.

Griffin hit the play button on her answering machine and poured herself a cup of tea as the first of three messages played.

" _Hey, Griffin,"_ said ADA Mitchel's voice, _"Just wanted to say thanks! Without your input we never would've nailed that son of a bitch. But we got him. Well done, kid! I'll be in touch."_

"Your welcome, Counsellor," muttered Griffin as she unclipped her gun holster from her belt and placed it on the counter along with her CSI ID. As she sank wearily onto the comfy sofa, the second message began.

" _Hey, Babe,"_ said the chirpy voice of Griffin's marine boyfriend, Ace Keenan, _"I know you've been crazy busy at work, but I was thinking maybe we can go see a movie tomorrow? I'll even let you pick, even if it is some weird Sci-Fi shit. Let me know. Love you!"_

Griffin smiled, but it quickly faded. She was going to have to address this Ace issue sooner rather than later. She couldn't keep leading him on, and if Griffin was one hundred percent honest, she was starting to develop feelings for someone else. A certain dark haired, dark eyed Texan CSI.

Griffin rested her head back onto the sofa and let out an unsteady breath. Nick was still avidly trying to worm his way into Griffin's heart, even though she told him she had a boyfriend. Since Sara had found out about Griffin, the older woman had refused to work with the 18 year old South African, so lately Grissom had been pairing Nick and Griffin together more often than not.

They worked well together, it was not the easy as breathing partnership that Griffin had had with Sara, but it was pleasant. No one had managed to make Griffin laugh like Nick did, and she loved it. Yet what attracted her most… was his compassionate heart. One moment, Nick could be goofing off, making Griffin laugh more than she ever had in her life, and the next he would be talking so tenderly to a victim's family that he melted her heart in an instant.

Nick was just….Good. He was pure light.

And Griffin had too much darkness in her life to drag him into it. He deserved better.

Romantic love was just not in the cards for Griffin. The sooner she accepted that, the better.

Griffin wiped an errant tear from her eye as the third and final message played.

" _Griffin,"_ said a gruff voice from the little black box. Griffin's head snapped up and she glared at the machine. Rage boiled and grew inside her as the message continued to play.

"… _Please… call me."_

The voice clicked off.

"You son of a bitch!" Griffin yelled and hurled her tea mug at the answering machine, sending it flying onto the floor and shattering along with the ceramic mug. She breathed hard for a moment as bitter anger rolled through her… along with another memory of Sara…

" _Do you really expect me to believe all this shit?" Sara said in a husky voice that betrayed her fear and her fury. She had sprung to her feet after Griffin had tried to explain the mystery surrounding her, and the demons that had attacked Sara._

" _I know it's a lot to process-"_

" _No shit, Sherlock," spat Sara as she interrupted Griffin for about the fiftieth time that night._

" _Sara, please," begged Griffin her desperation clear in her beautiful, brown eyes, "Even though this situation is a little…okay, a lot fucked up, can't you see that it's all in_ your _best interest?"_

Griffin blinked as yet another tear rolled down her cheek, as she was brought back to the present by a loud clap of thunder and a pelt of rain that hit the glass sliding door in her living room.

Standing up, Griffin walked over to the door and watched as the rain came down in sheets over her perfectly manicure lawn. The cold coming off the glass caused Griffin to shiver as she wrapped her arms around herself. But in truth it was more in an effort to dull he incessant ache in her chest than to ward of the cold. Griffin rested her head against the cool glass and let out a ragged, pained sigh.

She missed Sara. Missed her so much it hurt. Being banished from Sara's presence was like cutting Griffin in half. She couldn't bear it, yet she had no idea how to fix it. One small comfort Griffin could take was that she knew Sara was suffering too. Granted not as badly as Griffin, but still… Not that Griffin wished _any_ kind of hurt on Sara. The exact opposite was true, in fact. But if Sara felt the absence of Griffin's presence even a third as much as Griffin felt the absence of Sara's, maybe there was still hope…

 _Thud, thud, thud._

Griffin was startled from her pit of suffering by three loud bangs on her door. Looking up, Griffin felt uncharacteristic hope that it was the object of her contemplation at the door. The balm to her raw heart. The cure to her grief infected soul.

"Sara?" Griffin called out as she rushed to the door with a hopeful smile on her face. She jogged past the shattered mug and answering machine, past her holstered Glock that still lay discarded on her kitchen counter and wrenched the door open.

Her smile faded slowly as she beheld who stood out in the pouring rain on her doorstep.

"Griffin!" sobbed a drenched, auburn haired woman, "I didn't know where else to go!"

"Kate?" Griffin said her brain riddled with confusion that slowed her reaction. Her eyes drifted a little to the right and saw another woman hanging off of Kate, her olive complexion deathly pale.

"Oh my god! Ziva!" Griffin yelled and lurched forward to take the Israeli woman's weight from Kate's exhausted arms. That was when Griffin felt wetness seep into her clothes. At first she assumed it was merely rain water, but when she look down, she saw that her white shirt was covered in blood. The source of the blood was the side of Ziva's torso.

"Hurry," said Kate frantically as she followed Griffin inside the townhouse and kicked the door shut behind them. Griffin laid Ziva on her sofa and almost instantly the blood soaked the material.

 _That's not going to come out_ , thought Griffin errantly.

"They were right behind us," continued Kate as she placed a pillow under Ziva's head, "We don't have much time before-"

Kate was interrupted by the squeal of tires outside the house. Griffin glanced up at the cause of the noise, then stripped off her shirt and pressed it onto Ziva's wound to staunch the bleeding.

She looked up at Kate then and said in a hard voice, "What the hell have you gotten me into, Todd?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi, Everyone,**

 **This chapter was exceedingly hard to write, and even now I'm not very comfortable putting it up. I tried to explain as best I could, but if I didn't get it 100% right, please PM me with your question, and I'd be more than happy to elaborate. I have chapter 3 all lined up and ready to publish, but I'm so nervous about this one, I think I might wait a little to see what kind of a response this chapter gets.**

 **Anyways, enjoy ;)**

 **Xxx**

 **IronAnel 240**

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Darkness. There had always been darkness. It had haunted Sara as long as she could remember. She had always savored the daylight hours, dreading the moment that the sun sank below the horizon and plunged her world into darkness once more. So of course, that made the fact that she chose to work the Graveyard Shift all the more ironic. Yet, it wasn't the darkness itself that froze Sara in fear. It's what came with the darkness that rendered her practically paralyzed.

Over the years, she had managed to develop several defenses against the fear; to the point that when Grissom had offered her a place on his team, Sara was able to accept it. But lately, the darkness in her life had grown. The ghosts of her past had returned to plague her.

Familiar faces of the past had returned to tear open old wounds, leaving Sara battered, broken and bruised.

…Then Griffin had shown up. Light returned. Suddenly, Sara remembered how to battle the darkness that threatened to overwhelm her soul. She remembered all her weapons on how to keep the darkness at bay. Then something extraordinary happened; the more time Sara spent in Griffin's presence, the more she learned not only to battle the darkness, but to defeat it.

Days would go by without a nightmare, and when nightmares did appear… Griffin was there fighting alongside Sara to beat back the demons and ghosts.

But that was before Sara found out the dark secret the young girl was hiding. Sara realized that Griffin wasn't helping to fight back the darkness; the young girl was the cause of it.

Griffin had tried her best to explain and Sara had tried her best to understand, but the seasoned CSI just couldn't wrap her big, rational brain around it…

Griffin's pleading voice still echoed in her head as Sara recalled their conversation three weeks earlier.

" _It's called a Bond," Griffin said as she sat on the coffee table with her legs crossed opposite Sara who sat on the couch, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them._

" _A Bond?" Sara had responded warily. This conversation seemed to get crazier as the minutes rolled by._

" _That's what the relationship between an Angel and a human is called. It's one of the most significant relationships there is;short of a relationship with God Himself, of course._

" _Another term used to describe it is… a Soul mate."_

Sara shuddered again at the memory. Griffin had continued into details that Sara wasn't ready to think about yet. There was one thing, however, that had stuck with her.

" _Think of it as a silver cord that's connecting my soul to yours,"said Griffin as she handed Sara a glass of bourbon she had just retrieved from the kitchen. Sara had been surprised (but also a little bit impressed) to see that the eighteen year old not only had liquor in her house, but good, hard liquor. She took a sip and grimaced as the liquid burned a fiery trail down her throat. Sara looked up and saw Griffin nursing her own glass of bourbon. Griffin had paused as she took a sip of her drink. After she swallowed she continued, "It's a connection unlike any other. Do you remember the night we met?"_

 _Sara did. Vividly. The moment she had looked into Griffin's dark eyes it felt like a bolt of electricity had shot through her. Something had clicked in place as the two women looked into each other's eyes. Sara closed her eyes tightly at the memory and nodded her head._

" _That…thing you felt? That spark?" said Griffin leaning forward eagerly, "That was the first time we connected. There's a reason we work so well together, Sara. Why we instinctively know what the other wants without ever saying a word. It's the Bond that we share."_

 _Sara opened her eyes and searched Griffin's dark brown ones._

" _I am…" Sara said haltingly, searching for the right word to describe what she was feeling, "Confused."_

 _Griffin sighed and rubbed the back of her neck as she took another sip of her bourbon._

" _I'm sorry," she said. Griffin reached forward as if she wanted to take Sara's hand, but then she seemed to think better of it and simply brushed her hair behind her ear and said, "This isn't easy to explain and I'm not doing a very good job either."_

 _Griffin was silent for a moment as Sara desperately tried to make sense of what the younger girl was trying to say._

 _Finally, Griffin lifted her head and Sara noticed a different light in her eyes._

" _Maybe if I can't explain it," Griffin said slowly, "Then maybe I should show you?"_

 _At this she held out her hand to Sara._

Little did Sara know that taking Griffin's hand would changer her life forever…

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"Sara?"

Sara spun her head around at the sound of her name being whispered. There she saw Griffin, her shoulders hunched in, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her head rested dejectedly on a glass door. Griffin whispered Sara's name again, but this time it came out as more of a whimper as a single, solitary tear rolled down her cheek.

Sara felt her chest contract and her throat close up as she beheld the brokenness of the younger woman.

 _I did this,_ Sara thought miserably as she walked closer to Griffin, wanting to lay a comforting hand on the dark haired girl's back. Her hand hovered over the black Cashmere sweater that covered the tense, powerful trapezius muscle, but she was startled by a violent banging.

Sara and Griffin's head snapped up at the same time. Sara froze as Griffin turned around, waiting for the inevitable "What the hell are you doing in my house?".

Instead an unfocused looked came into Griffin's eyes and a smile slowly pulled at her lips. Sara felt an answering smile lift the corner of her own mouth, an automatic response to seeing Griffin happy.

"Sara," said Griffin her hopeful smile spreading.

Sara felt her smile become a grin as she stepped forward, the most intense desire to embrace Griffin.

Griffin stepped forward at the same moment…

And stepped right through Sara.

Sara gasped as a bone chilling cold washed through her entire being as Griffin passed through her.

This had happened once before… When Sara had taken Griffin's hand that fateful night.

 _Sara's heart thudded in her chest as she slipped her cold, clammy hand into Griffin's soft, warm one. Griffin forced eye contact with Sara as she squeezed the older woman's hand slightly. For a few moments nothing happened. Sara was just starting to feel her brow crumple in confusion when Griffin started to blur in front of her eyes._

 _Sara closed her eyes and shook her head trying to clear the fuzziness, but when she opened her eyes she wasn't looking at Griffin sitting on the coffee table, but she was looking down a dimly lit hall._

 _Sara looked around confused, and saw pictures lining the walls. She stepped closer and peered at the pictures. They depicted a handsome family, a young girl with blonde curls, a blonde man and a dark haired woman, all smiling at the camera._

 _Realization suddenly hit Sara. She knew where she was. Looking down the hall, Sara knew exactly what she would see; and sure enough, a blonde haired man lay in a pool of his own blood a few feet away._

 _The Barrett residence. Michael Barrett and his daughter Kimmy Barrett had been brutally murdered by a past lover of Vanessa Barrett (Michael's wife and Kimmy's mother)._

 _It had been this night that Sara had first seen Griffin._

Cast off on the walls, _Sara thought as she made her way toward the body,_ There's a void in the arterial spray so the victim was facing his attacker.

 _Sara crouched down near the victim and began to assess him. Looking down, a small part of Sara's mind noted that her shoes were too small for her normal size. Before she could contemplate this further, a voice said behind her, "Excuse me, can I help you?"_

 _Grissom._

 _Sara stood and turned around. She noted Grissom's hand fall away from his hip where his service weapon was holstered and his frown soften slightly as he repeated, "Can I help you?"_

" _Dr Grissom?" Sara felt her mouth say, but instead of her usual husky voice that rasped out Grissom's familiar name, a soft, musical voice practically sang it._

 _Sara would recognize that voice anywhere. It was Griffin's voice. Coming from Sara's body._

What the Fuck?

 _That's when Sara realized something… She was living Griffin's memory!_

How the hell is this happening? _Sara frantically thought as she began to panic. Sara was only residing in a small part of Griffin's consciousness, she was only able to watch the scene unfold before her, like some extremely vivid 3D movie._

 _Grissom had just offered Griffin a trial run on his team and Griffin had graciously thanked him before picking up her sketch pad and began sketching the crime scene._

 _Sara knew exactly what was coming next. She felt a tug at her chest and butterflies flutter in her stomach as her hand stopped sketching._

 _Griffin/Sara cocked her head to the side as the tugging in her chest intensified. She looked up as a strawberry blonde exited the kitchen saying, "_ _Hey, Grissom, you were right. Killer definitely didn't go into the rest of the ... I'm sorry, who're you?"_

 _Before Grissom could answer, Sara and Warrick walked out of Kimmy Barrett's room carrying there silver forensic kits._

" _Catherine, Warrick, Sara, this is Griffin Bauer. She will be working with us for the duration of this case. Griffin, this is Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, and Sara Sidle," Grissom introduced each member of his team by gesturing to them. Griffin/Sara greeted each of the team with a nod of her head and a slight smile… Until she turned to Sara._

 _Sara found it extremely disconcerting to see herself through another's eyes,_ Do I really look that tired? _She thought absentmindedly, but she couldn't dwell on it because at that moment, dark brown eyes collided with light chestnut ones._

 _Sparks flew. Sara felt as if her (Griffin's?) chest had closed up. She felt as if she were choking on an emotion that seemed to wrench itself from the very pit of her being, searing through her body until it set her heart ablaze. She struggled to put a name to the emotion. Never in her life had she felt something like this, but as the fire continued to burn and sear her, forever branding her soul, she realized what this emotion was…_

 _Love._

 _Pure, unadulterated Love. The kind that you only read about it Fairy Tales. There was no sexual charge to the emotion; it was more of an "I would step in front of a moving train in order to keep you safe" kind of love._

" _It's a pleasure to meet you all," said Griffin. Her eyes never leaving that of Sara's._

Sara gasped as Griffin passed through her. She shook her head trying to clear the memory; the one Griffin had shared with her through their "connection". It had scared the living shit out of Sara.

Sara knew now that it was happening again. Somehow, without realizing it, she had tapped into her connection to Griffin; she had used their Bond, and now she was seeing something that was really happening or had already happened to her supposed Guardian Angel.

Sara spun around and saw Griffin rush to the door and yanked it open.

"Griffin! I didn't know where else to go." sobbed a woman whom Sara could not see.

"Kate?" answered Griffin, confusion evident in her voice. Sara inched a few steps closer but froze when she heard Griffin yell, "Oh my god! Ziva!"

Sara watched as Griffin entered the house again, this time supporting the weight of a soaked, deathly pale Israeli woman. Following her inside was another woman who was also completely drenched. The woman could be described as beautiful, even in her disheveled state. Her wet, auburn hair framed high cheekbones, a strong nose, sensual lips, and wide, concerned hazel eyes.

"Hurry," said the woman Griffin had called Kate frantically as she followed Griffin inside the townhouse and kicked the door shut behind them. Griffin laid Ziva on her sofa and almost instantly the blood soaked the material.

Sara winced the same time Griffin did and thought sympathetically, _That's not going to come out._

"They were right behind us," continued Kate as she placed a pillow under Ziva's head, "We don't have much time before-"

Kate was interrupted by the squeal of tires outside the house. Sara's head whipped towards the door as Griffin glanced up at the cause of the noise. Sara frowned as she heard car doors slam and heave footfalls outside the house; and then the distinctive "click" of a gun's safety being turned off.

Panic started to fill Sara. Something wasn't right.

"What the hell have you gotten me into, Todd?" she heard Griffin say to Kate.

"There's no time to explain," hissed Kate.

Griffin nodded solemnly and gestured with her head towards Ziva who was practically unconscious, "Get her up."

Griffin then ran towards the door. She grabbed her computer table that was next to the door and with a groan she dragged it forward until she had made a make shift barricade. Sara eyed the desk skeptically. While it was sturdy, it was also completely made of glass.

 _That's not gonna last_ , winced Sara.

"It will have to do," muttered Griffin as if she could hear Sara.

Sara followed Griffin with her eyes as the latter woman ran back towards Kate, who was now hunched over with Ziva hanging off her neck. As Griffin passed the kitchen she grabbed her Glock from the counter. Just then the first loud bang echoed through the room as the trespassers rammed against the door.

All four women looked towards the door for a split second.

"Hurry," hissed Griffin as she ushered Kate and Ziva into her bedroom as another bang echoed through the room.

Once they were in she said in a low voice, "Kate, whatever happens, whatever you hear; _do not come out of this room_! Not until I come get you, okay?"

Kate nodded and Griffin closed the door.

Sara watched as Griffin took a deep breath and checked the magazine on her service weapon. Griffin then ran barefoot into the kitchen and grabbed one of her kitchen knives. She tucked the knife in her back pocket, then knelt down with her back pressed against the counter and her Glock cradled against her chest.

Griffin took a deep breath as the assailants broke down her door…

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Sara woke with a start, drenched in sweat. She looked around her small apartment bewildered as she searched for the source that woke her up. That's when the ringing registered in her ears.

It was her cellphone.

"Sidle," she said; her voice husky from sleep and the emotion that lingered from her dream.

" _It's Grissom,"_ said Grissom's equally husky voice.

"Hi," said Sara softly.

" _Hi,"_ he responded just as softly, _"Did I wake you?"_

"Not at all," Sara said hurriedly. She cleared her voice and asked, "What's up."

" _We got a case. Can you meet me?"_

"Yeah, just give me ten minutes."

" _I'll see you there then."_

Click.

Sara sprang out her bed and ran to her bathroom, trying desperately to shake her nightmare.

 _It was just a dream, it was just a dream,_ she continued to say to herself as she climbed into the shower.

But she couldn't shake the feeling of sick dread that had filled her stomach, forcing bile up her throat.

What if it wasn't just a dream?


	3. Chapter 3

**New Chapter! Not too long unfortunately, but it definitely sets the scene for the new story. Thanks for all your kind reviews regarding the last chapter. Enjoy!**

 **I own nothing belonging to CBS and the respective owners of the CSI franchise. I own only my original story and characters.**

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The night was cold and the stars invisible. It was as if they had decided to hide themselves from the cruelty of the species, Homosapien. In truth, Graveyard shift Supervisor, Gil Grissom, did not blame the constellations. At times he, too, felt like hiding himself from mankind's cruel and violent nature. Yet, there was always that one person who chose to try and make a difference; whilst they often didn't succeed there were those who sometimes did. Grissom had decided long ago that he would be one of the few who did make a difference. Hence the reason he was here on this cold, dark night behind a quick store, staring down at, yet another, dead body. The cadaver was that of a handsome young man in his late twenties with buzz cut, dark hair and a well muscled body. The front of his gray T-shirt was soaked through with blood.

"Preliminary cause of death is three gunshot wounds to the chest," said the Assistant Coroner, David Phillips.

Grissom nodded thoughtfully as he continued to look over the body.

"No defensive wounds," said Warrick Brown, a tall, green-eyed man with a quiet nature and keen mind. "He could have been surprised."

"Or he knew his attacker," said Grissom.

"Or he knew his attacker," agreed Warrick.

"Does he have a wallet on him, Dave?" Warrick asked.

Dave patted the D.B.'s pockets, looked up and shook his head.

"No, but there's this," the coroner said as he pulled out a small, dark blue, velvet box. He handed it to Grissom who took it in his latex gloved hand. Grissom gingerly opened it and Warrick let out a low whistle.

"Well, I guess we can rule out robbery," said Warrick looking at the four carat, princess cut diamond ring.

Grissom just nodded his head in agreement.

"Warrick, why don't you take a look around the perimeter? Maybe the killer ditched the gun," said Grissom.

Warrick nodded his head solemnly then said, "You got it, Boss."

"You said there were no defensive wounds whatsoever, Dave?" Grissom asked.

Dave lifted their John Doe's arms. "No, sir, there's nothing here."

Grissom nodded and looked up. He frowned then looked over to where Detective Lara Stokes, was talking to the quick store manager. Lara was Nick Stokes older sister. She had been a Texas Ranger back south, but three weeks ago when she came to Vegas to visit her brother, Captain James Brass had offered her a job as a homicide detective. Much to Nick's surprise, and dismay, Lara had accepted the job.

Grissom preferred to reserve his judgement on the detective until he knew her better, but from what he had seen, he deduced she was a competent detective. Even if she was a bit hot-headed and temperamental.

"Detective Stokes?" he called.

She looked up, excused herself, and then walked over to Grissom.

"What's up?" she asked.

Pointing up to the camera with his flashlight Grissom said, "I need the surveillance."

Lara glanced up then looked back at him and said, "I'll get them to CSI ASAP."

Grissom nodded and looked back down at the body. Looking at their John Doe's hands something caught Grissom's eye.

"Are you done yet, Dave?" he asked.

The coroner looked up and said, "Yes, sir. He's all yours."

As the coroner moved out of the way Grissom took his place.

Kneeling he picked up the Vic's hand and examined his fingernails. There seemed to blood staining the corners of the fingernails. Strange. If their John Doe had scratched his assailant there would be blood underneath his fingernails, not in the corners. Grissom paused, swab in hand, and gazed at the Vic. He had a strange feeling he knew this John Doe from somewhere ... He just couldn't think where. Grissom shook his head and went back to work. When he had first become a CSI, every victim had looked like someone he had known. Grissom wondered where along the line that had stopped happening. It scared him how detached he sometimes became when working a case. How sometimes the cruelty one person could administer on another would not surprise him. Grissom sometimes wondered if he wasn't losing his humanity slightly. He was swabbing the blood when Sara Sidle arrived on the scene. Suddenly, things didn't seem so dark...

"Hi," she said when she reached his side. Sara was a tall woman in her early thirties with shoulder length, dark brown hair and chestnut colour eyes. Looking over his shoulder Grissom greeted her with a nod.

"Sorry I'm late," she said as she placed her silver, flight-case like field kit on the asphalt next to her.

Grissom shook his head and said, "It's not a problem."

Grissom looked up at her and studied her face a little harder. She seemed tired. Dark rings lay underneath her beautiful chestnut eyes. Grissom worried about Sara; a few months ago Sara had been locked in a relationship with an abusive boyfriend. She had actually come to work with a black eye that she had tried to cover up. But now she seemed healthy and ... relatively happy. Mainly because their youngest colleague Griffin Bauer had helped her through it, as a result Sara and Griffin had become nigh to inseparable and because they worked so well together, Grissom had had no problem partnering the two women together nearly every shift.

Well, until three weeks ago that is, when Sara had come to him unexpectedly and asked that she no longer be paired with Griffin. She had even threatened to request a transfer to a different shift if Grissom didn't comply. Confused as to what had brought on the sudden hostility between the two women, but terrified to lose Sara, Grissom had agreed to the ultimatum.

"You look good," said Grissom.

Sara looked down at him and gave a small smile, "Thanks."

They held each other's gaze for a moment. Grissom, once again, felt an electric spark jump between them. He had to wrench his gaze away from her eyes and concentrate on marking the DNA evidence he had in his hand.

As Sara snapped on a pair of latex gloves she asked, "So, what's the story here?"

Looking at the John Doe, Grissom said, "John Doe, 25 – 30 years old. Triple GSW to the chest. No wallet or ID. Only an engagement ring."

"Engagement ring?" Sara asked.

Grissom nodded.

"So I take it your first blush theory is not of a robbery?"

Grissom shook his head and Sara tried to hide a smile.

Sara narrowed her eyes as she stared at the Vic. All of the sudden she froze.

"Has Griffin seen the body yet?" she asked in a stiff voice. It was the first time in weeks that Grissom had heard Sara mention the younger CSI's name.

He didn't look up from his clip board, but he said, "No, she worked a triple shift; I sent her home for the day."

"You might want to call her in."

Grissom looked up at her and frowned, "Why?"

"Because this is her boyfriend. This is Marine Ace Keenan."

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" _Hi, you've reached Griffin. Leave a message."_

"Griffin, call me as soon as you get this."

Grissom sighed in exasperation as he ended the call. Her voicemail was short, professional; the same way she was. Although this was the first time he was hearing it because Griffin _always_ answered his calls. He snapped his phone shut and said, "She's not answering her phone. It goes straight to voicemail."

Sara immediately whipped out her phone and dialled Griffin's number by heart.

"Sara, are you sure it's Griffin's boyfriend?" Warrick asked. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, next to Sara.

Sara nodded her head and said, "Yes, I'm sure."

Sara shut up as something happened on the other side of the cell phone connection. She held her breath but let it out in exasperation when all she heard was, _"Hi, you've reached Griffin. Leave a message."_

"Damn it! She's not answering me either," said Sara as she ended her call.

"Alright, alright," said Grissom, "let's all just calm down."

Turning to Sara, Grissom said, "Start from the beginning, Sara. Don't leave out anything."

Sara took a deep breath and started. "She started seeing Keenan a few months before she came to Vegas. She once told me that she met him in Washington, and he had recently moved here, but he was stationed in... Iraq, I think it was? "

"How serious were they?" Warrick asked.

Sara shrugged, "Have you ever been able to decipher Griffin's emotions?"

Warrick nodded his head in understanding, "The girl can keep a tight lid on things."

"Alright, but explain the engagement ring we found in Keenan's pocket," said Grissom.

Sara shrugged her shoulders and said, "Beats me."

"Maybe Keenan was more serious about Griffin than Griffin was about him," said Warrick.

They all fell silent for a moment, staring at each other before Sara's face darkened into a scowl and growled, "Don't even go there, Warrick."

"It's a logical explanation, Sara," said Warrick with a defensive shrug.

Sara's face darkened further, "Just because we can't get hold of her, don't you dare think for one second she had _anything_ to do with this."

"Okay, okay, just calm down. Both of you," demanded Grissom. "Let's just work the evidence. Sara, I want you to get Catherine and head over to Griffin's apartment. If she's not there, see if you can find a clue as to where she went. Warrick and I will stay here and work the scene. We will meet up back at the lab. Whatever happens, we have to find Griffin."

 **CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI**

Sara had not been back at Griffin's town house since she had stormed out three weeks earlier. Now as she stood outside the upmarket house, Sara felt a sense of foreboding settle in her stomach like a stone.

"Nice digs," said Catherine appreciatively. The strawberry blonde was right. The outside of Griffin's home had a very modern look to it, with dark grey walls and stone panels. Sara knew it was even more impressive on the inside.

"Shall we?" Catherine asked as she gestured to the front door.

Sara distractedly nodded her head and the pair walked up the drive to Griffin's front door. Sara pulled her spare key out of her pocket, but was so distracted that she didn't notice that the dark red door was bashed in until Catherine grabbed her arm.

"Someone got here before us," Catherine murmured as she pulled Sara back.

Sara and Catherine both un-holstered their Glocks as Catherine pulled out her radio and said into it,

"CSI Willows to central."

" _Go-ahead, CSI Willows," came the crackling reply._

"Responding to a 425, send immediate back up to this location."

" _10-4, CSI Willows. Back up en-route. ETA 5 minutes."_

"Griffin could be inside hurt," said Sara starting to feel a tinge of panic work its way into her voice as she remembered her dream from the previous evening.

"We should wait for back up," said Catherine.

"Screw that, we don't have time to wait for them," growled Sara as she lifted her Glock and pushed the door open.

"Sara!" hissed Catherine as Sara stepped cautiously into the town house.

"Shit!" Sara heard Catherine cuss followed by the sound of Catherine entering the house behind Sara.

Sara raised her gun as her eyes tried to adjust to the dim light. She heard glass crunch beneath her boots as she slowly advanced into the living room. Sara could barely make out the basic shapes of the room so she said, "Hey, Cath, get the lights, will ya? The switch should be near the door."

There was a faint shuffling sound and more crunching of glass beneath Catherine's boot as she reached for the light switch. Sara narrowed her eyes as the room suddenly became illuminated when Catherine found her target.

Sara's eyes widened in horror and she felt her Glock fall to her side as shock took over her. Catherine was frozen in a similar position as she took in the scene before her as the rapidly nearing sound of wailing sirens began to fill the air.

"What the hell happened here?" asked Catherine in a breathless voice.


	4. Chapter 4

**I own nothing belonging to CBS and the respective CSI owners. I own only my original story and characters.**

 **IronAngel 240**

 **CSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSICSI**

Nick Stokes buried his head deeper into his pillow with a sleepy groan. His arm stretched to the side in search of the warm, soft body he knew should be occupying his bed, but all he felt was cold sheets. He opened his eyes and was greeted with the sight of bare, dark grey bedding.

"Good Morning," said a low, soft, sultry voice.

Nick sat up and looked towards the window. What he saw made his heart clench.

She sat in his high backed chair, her knees drawn up to her chest and her soft hands clasped a cup of coffee. Her hair was a mass of un-brushed dark curls that fell in waves around her face. How could bed-head look so damn sexy? Nick met her smoldering brown eyes and held her gaze for a moment before his eyes began a trail down her body. A strong, shapely nose led down to full, kiss swollen lips. Her chin pointed to a long, slender neck; the usual tanned skin was marred by light red marks, evidence of Nick's lips and tongue that had lavished the area.

Nick bit his bottom lip as his eyes lowered to her chest. She was dressed only in his light blue button down shirt (only the middle two buttons were done, giving him a tantalizing view of her braless cleavage and toned stomach) and a pair of white lace panties. Her legs seemed to go on for miles before they tapered off into graceful feet that were perched on the chair. Nick's eyes flicked back up to her angelic face. The early morning light that streamed through the window set her aglow and brought out the reddish streaks in her brown locks.

He felt the lust fill his gaze as his eyes once again found hers.

"Griffin," he breathed.

Griffin smiled in response. The kind of smile that she rarely bestowed on anyone; the one that showed her single dimple and made her eyes crinkle in the corners. The young girl set her coffee cup down before getting up and gliding across the room towards the bed. Nick's eyes followed her progress with a smile plastered on his face. He shifted his position so that his back was rested against the headboard and his long legs were stretched out underneath the sheets.

Griffin wasted no time when she reached Nick. She crawled up the bed; never taking her eyes off Nick's, she straddled his hips and slipped her arms around his neck.

"Good Mornin," Nick finally answered with a smile as he wrapped his hands around her waist. Griffin returned his smile before lowering her head and capturing his lips with her own.

Nick sat up and moved his hands up her waist, over her ribs, feathering over the sides of her breasts before they continued up to grasp her face as he deepened the kiss.

He moaned as Griffin allowed his tongue access into the heat of her mouth. She gasped and began to gently rock her hips in a distracting rhythm against Nick's. Nick tangled his one hand in her softer-than-silk hair as the other one trailed down her neck and collarbone to gently caress her breast through the thin material of her shirt.

Griffin's arms tightened around Nick's neck as she rocked her hips harder against him. Nick's hand then traveled lower until they grazed the white lace of her panties. He could already feel the heat coming from her; he pushed her underwear aside and grazed her bare flesh with a single finger. Griffin broke their kiss and threw her head back with a whimper as she rocked over Nick's hand. Nick started to gently nibble on her neck as he continued to move his hand in a slow, sensual rhythm.

Griffin suddenly grabbed his head and yanked him up to claim his lips roughly. She growled into his mouth and gave his bottom lip a playful bite. Nick chuckled as he broke the kiss and licked his lip, tasting iron.

The little minx had actually drawn blood. He looked up at Griffin with adoring eyes and saw a small smear of blood on her own lip. Nick chuckled again and shook his head. Griffin also smiled and gave a giggle; as she did so though a strange look came to her face and the giggle turned into a cough.

"Griffin?" Nick asked in concern as he brought both hands up to cradle her face. Griffin frowned and coughed again, but this time blood spurted from her mouth and coated her chin, dripping down onto her chest. Nick flinched back slightly as a spattering of the red liquid hit his face.

"Griffin!" Nick shouted in panic as the young girl collapsed. He tightened his hold on her and gently lowered her to the bed as blood continued to spew from her mouth as she tried in vain to breathe.

"Griffin?!" Nick shouted again as he searched her body for injuries. His eyes widened in horror as he saw a pool of red spreading through the material of the pale blue shirt on Griffin's abdomen.

Nick applied pressure to the wound with one hand and he used the other to cradle Griffin's face.

"Griffin, please," Nick begged in a broken whisper as he watched her struggle to take a breath. Her eyes begged him for help as spasms wrenched at her delicate frame.

"Stay with me," Nick whispered.

But it was too late. He watched as her body stopped its frantic spasms and the light faded from her beautiful brown eyes, leaving them dull…and dead…

Nick woke with a start, drenched in sweat. He looked around his dark room searching for Griffin. His eyes landed on the digital clock.

21:00 pm.

An hour before his shift was due to start. Nick collapsed back onto his bed and rubbed a hand over his face. It was just a dream.

Just a dream…

Nick groaned in frustration and rolled over onto his stomach and buried his head into his pillow.

The dream was still vivid in his mind. The feel of Griffin's body pressed against him, the taste of her lips, the sounds of her whimpers… and the warm feel of her blood soaking his hands.

Nick sat up and swung his legs off the bed and rested them on the floor. He rubbed the back of his neck as he recalled his dream. Seeing the light going out of Griffin's eyes had been devastating. Nick got up and walked into his bathroom. He started the shower and stepped into the warm spray.

Nick wasn't sure what haunted him more; the image of Griffin's lifeless eyes… or the image of her lust filled eyes. Suddenly, his shower felt to warm. He quickly adjusted the temperature to cold. How did this girl manage to do this to him? How did she manage to make him feel like a hormone crazed teenager?

Nick had never felt the softness of her lips, the warmth of her tongue or the swell of her breast. The closest he had come was a gentle brush of his fingertips against her cheek. So why this sudden…craving for Griffin? He couldn't understand it. And why did she suddenly die in his dream? Was it a premonition of what was to come? Some ill omen warning him against pursuing a relationship with the barely legal CSI?

 _Please, God, no,_ thought Nick. Just the thought of not being able to see Griffin was enough to make his throat close, making it difficult to breath. He had never felt this way about anyone before.

Turning the shower off, Nick stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist. He proceeded to shave and brush his teeth before he re-entered his bedroom and got dressed. As he pulled a maroon t-shirt over his head Nick glanced at the clock.

21:30 pm.

The sudden desire to see Griffin was so overwhelming that Nick grabbed his keys and rushed out of his house without even thinking about breakfast, or coffee for that matter. He had just inserted his keys into the ignition when his cellphone rang.

Warrick.

"What's up, Rick?" Nick said as he cradled his phone between his shoulder and his ear and put the car into gear. He still wanted to stop and get some coffee for himself and Griffin, as had been their tradition for the past three weeks since becoming partners.

" _Where you at, Nick?"_ Warrick asked.

"I'm on my way in. Just gonna stop and get some coffee. Did you need something?" Nick asked as he began to back out of the drive way.

" _Forget the coffee. Get your ass over here, it's all hands on deck_ , _"_ said Warrick abruptly, _"Griffin is missing."_


	5. Chapter 5

Glass crunched beneath the sole of Catherine's high heeled boot as she gingerly made her way around the crime scene; otherwise known as Griffin's living room. Even though the room was completely trashed, Catherine's keen eye could tell that it had once been an extremely fashionable room. Fashionable, but comfortable, and it screamed quality and money.

 _Mommy and Daddy must have some serious dough,_ Catherine thought dryly.

Catherine was not deliberately being bitchy or judgmental. It was just her nature to be suspicious, and given how little they actually knew about the newest (and youngest) addition to their team, she really couldn't help herself.

The blonde walked over to the island that separated the kitchen from the living room. Shifting some glass from her path with the toe of her boot, Catherine knelt down next to the body of a twenty something male DB that was next to the counter. The cadaver lay on his back with his head facing back towards the living room and his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. He was an attractive man with a dark stubble of hair that was just starting to grow back after being shaved. His clothes were once a neat and expensive looking black Italian suit, but now it was covered in blood. The only jewelry the man had on was a single diamond earring in his left ear and a platinum watch on his right wrist.

Holding the camera to her blue eye, she carefully documented the position of the body and the entrance wound.

 _Knife wound to thigh,_ thought Catherine, _given the amount of blood, it probably severed the femoral artery._

Catherine looked around her for a second before thinking, _No arterial spray, so there was only one stab. Minimal cast off… Double GSW to the chest, most likely the cause of death. Seems like 9mm cartridges. Two shells on the floor next to the body. Gunshot residue on the chest…he was shot at close range, maybe even point blank._

Catherine paused her assessment as she bagged the two cartridges. The actual bullets would have to wait until Doc Robbins could retrieve them.

A Smith & Wesson M&P .45 handgun lay loosely in the DB's hand. The gun also sported a silencer. Catherine slipped her camera over her neck as she gingerly picked up the gun between her thumb and forefinger. She proceeded to place the gun in a brown evidence bag, after which she sealed and signed the bag with her flourished signature.

She turned on her haunches to look over her shoulder at another two bodies lying closer to the front door in the living room. Just then the assistance coroner, David Phillips, walked through the door.

"Hey, Catherine," said David, "You cleared a path for me yet?"

Catherine nodded, her strawberry blonde hair bouncing around her shoulder. "Yeah, just follow those blue markers."

David carefully worked his way over to Catherine, before he knelt down next to the body and began to assess it.

Leaving David to his work, Catherine winced as she straightened up and pins and needles shot through her long, shapely legs. More glass crunched beneath her feet as she walked around broken tables and bullet filled sofas, careful not to disturb any potential evidence. Along with the broken glass, the floor was covered in a fine layer of downy feathers, the result of one of the sofa's cushions having been torn open.

The next victim Catherine started processing was the one laying almost directly in the doorway. Another young man, same size and build as the previous vic she processed, but this one had a snake tattooed up his neck. Catherine could just see the scaly head peeking out from underneath his bloodstained collar.

The DB was lying face down with his arms outstretched beside him. Another hand gun rested in the vic's hand, also a .45 S & W., also with a silencer attached. Because David hadn't cleared the body yet, Catherine simply took pictures and bagged the gun. There was a pool of blood beneath the victim that was smudged on the one side, as if multiple feet had walked through it and out the door. Catherine doubted any of the smudges were usable, but there was one partial boot print that might work. Placing a marker next to the smudged area the blonde proceeded to snap half a dozen photos before she moved on to the third DB.

This man was older, heavier set, with a bald head. He too wore a suit, but rumpled and torn. Clearly this guy had been in a brawl. Unlike the other victims, this guy hadn't died from a gunshot wound. No the cause of death was quite obvious in this case. The hilt of a knife protruded from his chest, directly over his heart.

Catherine snapped a few pictures before she pulled a clear evidence bag from her field kit. She placed the bag over the hilt of the knife and secured it with a cable tie at its base, in order to protect any finger prints or trace evidence. There were several defensive marks on the DB's arms, hands and neck. His fat, bottom lip was split and he was sporting a fresh black eye.

Not able to process the body any further until David cleared it, Catherine turned to the rest of her surroundings. A little to the side of her third victim, just behind the couch, Catherine saw several drops of blood. She carefully documented them with her camera before she produced a swab from her CSI vest and took a sample. She then proceeded to take samples of all the scattered blood deposits around the room. Including the blood stain on the bullet riddled couch.

Catherine paused for a moment to stretch her legs and work a knot out of her shoulder. Surveying her surroundings the first thing that drew her attention was the large bookshelf that ran along the back wall. Walking over and standing in front of it, Catherine absent mindedly read through the titles. She then noticed the row of picture frames that adorned the shelf.

The pictures reflected small pieces of Griffin's life and being as curious as she is, Catherine picked up the photo closest to her. The frame actually held three photo's in a row all depicting the same three women.

The first picture was very formal and posed. Griffin looked painfully young. No older than 15, her face still bearing the soft roundness of childhood. She stood between two women. One was strikingly beautiful in a very classic way, with auburn hair, soft green eyes and a generous mouth that was curled in a polite smile. The redhead was dressed in an expensive grey suit that set off the color of her beautiful eyes. She stood to the left of Griffin and had her hand on the younger girl's shoulder in a maternal grip.

The second woman was just as beautiful as the first, albeit in a much more natural way. She was clearly of Middle Eastern descent, possibly Israeli or Pakistani, with dark eyes (darker even than Griffin's, almost black) and wild black hair that framed an olive toned, high cheek boned face.

The second woman stood on Griffin's right with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her lips. All three women had Glocks strapped to their hips, and the dark and auburn haired women had federal badges clipped to their belts.

The second picture was much more relaxed and casual. None of the women were looking at the camera. They sat at a dinner table in a restaurant bathed in candle light. They were all laughing at something.

The third picture was clearly a selfie taken on a beach somewhere. Griffin was once again sandwiched in between the two women. This time they wore bikinis. Griffin wore a black one, the dark haired woman wore a white bikini that complimented her tanned skin, and the red head wore a bikini of deep, royal blue.

Griffin had a huge grin on her face as the redhead and the dark haired women were both leaning in and were kissing her cheeks.

Catherine smiled lightly as she placed the picture back on the shelf. Clearly this girl was loved. Now they had to find her… and pray she wasn't dead.


	6. Chapter 6

_**God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.**_

 _ **\- William Shakespeare**_

 _Sara shuddered as she came out of the "vision" where she was in the Barrett's house. In Griffin's body. In Griffin's mind._

 _She looked up and was confronted with nervous, dark brown eyes before her._

 _Realizing she was still holding Griffin's soft, warm hand, she quickly snatched her own cold and clammy hand back and pushed herself as far back into the sofa as it would allow. Bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them she asked in a hoarse voice, "What the hell was that?"_

 _Griffin's eyes filled with disappointment as she looked at Sara's defensive position._

" _That was…" Griffin seemed to struggle to find the right words, "the moment we… connected. When my soul recognized it's other half and joined with it. I have experienced a lot of things in my lifetimes… but nothing… nothing compares to the moment when my soul connects with its bond."_

 _Sara watched in silent amazement as a single tear broke free from Griffin's eye and trailed down her flawless cheek. The older CSI felt her heart contract and she almost reached out in comfort to the younger woman. Almost._

 _Not ready to confront the true depth of Griffin's commitment and emotion towards her, Sara opted for a slight deviation in topic._

" _So you have what? Super strength, wings…fangs?" Sara asked hesitantly._

 _For the first time that night Griffin laughed. A quick chuckle that burst from the depth of her chest and resonated like the musical clamor of bells._

" _You're getting me confused with a vampire, Sara," chuckled Griffin._

" _So no super speed or wings?"_

" _No, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm all human. I do have a few attributes that would give me an advantage in a fight," explained Griffin, "I have to; how else would I be able to protect my Bond?"_

" _Attributes?" Sara quirked an eyebrow._

 _Griffin nodded, "I'm slightly faster and stronger than your average person. I have a natural ability to be as stealthy as need be. I see better than most do in the dark, my eyes are quite sharp. My hearing is also better than most. And…"_

 _Here she paused as if she wasn't sure she wanted to share this information with Sara._

" _And…" Sara prompted._

 _Griffin sighed, leaned back and rubbed the back of her neck._

" _Sara… despite all these things, you must know I'm a hundred percent human. I bruise," Griffin reached up and pushed her thick fringe away from her face to reveal a nasty cut in her hairline that had been carefully concealed by her dark hair. The gash looked fresh and deep and seemed to have been sealed with medical glue._

 _Sara felt an empathetic throb in her own head in the exact same place where she had hit it on the coffee table during her struggle with Hank._

 _Griffin smiled slightly and slid her left, long black sleeve revealing her tanned, toned arm that was marred by a slightly blood stained bandage. Griffin quickly and efficiently removed the bandage to reveal a long, deep cut that stretched jaggedly from her wrist to the crook of her elbow. The wound was haphazardly closed with what looked to be office grade staples._

 _Although clean, the wound looked inflamed and painful._

" _And I bleed," Griffin concluded in a low voice. Sara stared at the wound, not believing what she was seeing. She tugged the left sleeve of her robe up to reveal a shadow of the same wound on her own arm. The difference being that Sara's cut was more of a scratch, almost completely healed._

 _Her brain, struggling to keep up with this fantastical story, supplied a memory. Well, a memory of a thought in anyways._

 _She remembered being surprised when the doctors had removed the bandage Griffin had wrapped around Sara's arm and had revealed nothing more than an artificial scratch and telling her that her head wound was the same. Nothing to worry about. Yet Sara vividly remembered the searing pain she had felt when she crashed through the glass vase and the near constant flow of blood and unbearable throbbing in her head from when she hit the coffee table._

" _How…?" Sara said looking at Griffin with the same confused look._

" _I told you, we are connected. I can take your pain and bear it as my own," whispered Griffin, "You had a severe concussion, Sara. Possibly even a brain bleed. Not to mention the blood loss from the head wound and your arm. I…" Griffin's eyes filled with tears, "I thought I was going to lose you."_

 _Sara started to breathe hard. Trying to control her panic. This was just the final straw._

" _It's okay," said Griffin with a shrug of her shoulders as she bandaged her arm, "I heal a lot faster than your average person too. So the head wound wasn't nearly as severe as it was when you had it."_

 _Sara shook her head back and forth. This was too much._

" _Do you really expect me to believe this shit?" she yelled angrily as she stood up._

 **CSI*NCIS*CSI*NCIS*CSI*NCIS*CSI**

Sara blinked and came out of her revere with a shudder as she entered the one place in Griffin's house she hadn't yet been. Griffin's bedroom.

Sara would admit that she was expecting a black on black color scheme, much like Griffin's wardrobe, but to her surprise, the room was decorated in simple, elegant, light ivory colors.

Sara felt her world do a three hundred and sixty degree turn as this one simple aspect of this girl that she thought she knew well (until three weeks ago that is) turned out to be completely wrong.

Griffin's bed was king sized with an ivory colored feather duvet decorated with shiny floral patterns. The headboard was a light oak and the carpet a rich Champaign color. There was a simple dresser in the corner of the room made out of the same light oak as the headboard, and two comfy looking reading chairs near the window.

The windows were covered with heavy curtains to keep out any kind of light for the nocturnal CSI. Goosebumps started to appear on Sara's arms and she realized that the air-conditioning unit was turned down quite low in here.

There was one thing, however, that marred the simple beauty of the room.

And that was the large blood stain on the ivory colored duvet.

Sara brought her camera up to her eye and document the evidence. The carpet was thick and any pressure on it left impressions.

 _Three different footprints,_ thought Sara as she placed markers near the impressions and began to document, _Two work boots. Too small to be men, almost definitely women's boots. One barefoot suspect._

Knowing Griffin's love of walking around barefoot around her house, Sara would hazard a guess that the barefoot prints belonged to her. Not that she'd ever let Grissom catch her guessing.

 _Directional blood drops running in tandem with the barefoot prints from the door to the bed. Several blood drops smudged beneath the footprints, but also leading from the door to the bed,_ Sara thought as she documented the drops.

 _Those were there first, then the barefoot unsub came after._ Kneeling to take a sample of the various blood drops Sara continued her analysis, _The two boots entered first. Larger drops of blood was spilled then. Unsub 1 lay Unsub 2 on the bed. Judging from the boot treads, Unsub 1 stood quite close to the bed, most likely protecting Unsub 2._

 _ **You mean,**_ said a voice in Sara's head. A voice that sounded strangely like Griffin's sarcastic tone, **Kate** _ **carried**_ **Ziva** _ **, who was bleeding profusely, through my bedroom door and lay her on the bed.**_

 _No!_ thought Sara furiously, _I_ don't _know that that is what happened._ That _was a dream._

 _ **Was it?**_

 _Yes,_ thought Sara with a decisive nod of her head.

 _ **You're a very bad liar, Sara,**_ smirked Griffin's voice, _**Even when you are lying to yourself.**_

 _Shut up!_ yelled Sara in her head. She waited a few moments for a retaliation from the voice, but all was quiet.

Sara spent the next few hours processing the bedroom. Collecting blood samples, a carpet sample as well as bagging several dark brown and auburn colored hair, before she carefully stripped the duvet from the bed and bagged it. She then dusted for finger prints and found a few ones smudged in blood on the door knob, the head board and the closet.

Once she was finished with that, Sara looked around a bit more. She couldn't fight the curiosity that was building inside her at the chance of learning something new about her ange…. Her colleague.

She spotted several photo frames lining the dresser. Careful where she stepped, Sara made her way over to it. These photos appeared to more casual and personal than the ones that were in her living room.

The one photo that drew Sara's eye the most was one of Griffin in the hospital. The young girl looked pale and gaunt, although chapped and dry, her full lips were stretched into a small, pained smile. Her neck was almost completely bandaged and she had an IV in her arm.

Sitting beside her bed, with one arm in a sling and the other hand grasping Griffin's, was the same woman Griffin had once described as Special Agent Kate Todd.

Todd was also had the same pained smile on her lips, as if Griffin had just told her some bad news.

Both women had tears in their eyes.

Disturbed at the sight of Griffin hurt (and slightly jealous of the clear affection between the two women, though she'd never admit it), Sara put the picture down. She then noticed a book lying on the dresser. Picking it up Sara noticed it was Griffin's sketch pad. The young brunette was very seldom far from her sketch pad, and when things got quiet, or stressful, or they had to stressfully wait on results from the lab techs, Griffin could be found furiously sketching in her black bound book.

Sara's eyebrows shot into her hairline in surprise as she saw the fine artistic (almost photorealistic) detail of each drawing. The seemed to be mostly of the team. Some were group drawings in the break room or at breakfast. Some were of the team laughing and some were of them speaking seriously about a case.

There were some solo portraits as well of each team member. Beautifully done, with such depth and emotion sketched into their eyes. But most of the drawings were of Sara. They portrayed her from different angles and different scenarios. At crime scenes collecting evidence. At the lab processing evidence or simply drinking a cup of coffee. The most detailed ones, however, were of Sara at Griffin's house. Sitting in her lounge drinking coffee and watching TV or reading a book.

Sara felt her throat close at the sight of these. Clearly a lot of time and love went into rendering each picture. Flipping to the last page, Sara was startled to see a picture of someone she didn't recognize. This one was of a young boy, no older than 2 or 3. As much love that went into Sara's portraits, much more went into this one. Sara noticed that in some places the page had been smudged with tear drops. She gently ran her thumb over the inscription written on the bottom right hand corner of the page.

It read: _Dimitri Isles. Age 2._

 _Dimitri Isles?_ thought Sara, _I wonder who that could be._

 **Review?**


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